


In Vino Veritas

by flawedamythyst



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-13
Updated: 2008-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-16 08:42:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10567710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flawedamythyst/pseuds/flawedamythyst
Summary: Dean was at the stage of drunk where he became all hands burying under Sam's many shirts and skimming along the edge of his jeans, and he started to mutter exactly what he planned to do to Sam when they got back to their room in a slurred undertone.





	

Dean was at the stage of drunk where he became all hands burying under Sam's many shirts and skimming along the edge of his jeans, and he started to mutter exactly what he planned to do to Sam when they got back to their room in a slurred undertone that turned Sam on faster than Jess in that nurse's uniform, asking to take his temperature.

He was just thinking about downing his drink, then Dean's, and getting Dean back to the room as fast as possible so that he could take Dean up on some of his offers, when a mildly familiar voice came from behind them. "Hey, don't I know you guys?"

Sam turned round on his bar stool and groaned. It was the geeky-looking guy from the truly horrific hunt in Maine last year. Sam had to fight the alcohol clouding his brain for a moment to retrieve a name. Rick? Rob? Roger, he remembered with a sigh. Fantastic.

"Hey, man," he said, "How've you been?" He wondered if Roger could tell how much he didn't care.

Dean turned round as well, digging his hand into Sam's back pocket. "Oh Jesus," he said, recognising Roger.

Roger focused on Dean's hand, brows pulled into a puzzled frown. "Didn't you guys say you were brothers?"

"Yeah," said Dean before Sam could jump in with their standard cover of 'we say that to keep a low profile', "We are." He crowded even closer to Sam, and put a proprietary hand on his leg, too far up Sam's thigh to be mistaken for anything other than what it was.

"Dean!" protested Sam as Roger's eyes widened.

"What?" said Dean innocently. "You think I'm gonna let the guy who unleashed a zombie cat army judge us?"

Roger flinched at the reminder, and Sam glared at Dean. "Do I have to remind you that it's technically illegal?"

"Zombie. Cat. Army." said Dean, slower, as if Sam was missing the point. "That's probably illegal as well, you know." His face brightened and he turned to Roger. "You totally owe us a drink for cleaning that shit up for you," he said, then signalled the bartender. "Another two beers, please, and he's paying."

"Uh," said Roger, awkwardly, and the bartender raised an eyebrow at him, waiting.

"We spent three days chasing down undead cats," Dean pointed out, and Roger flinched again, then sighed and nodded at the bartender, pulling out his wallet.

"Make it three," he said. Dean grinned.

There was an awkward silence for a moment, and Sam tried not to notice the way Roger kept giving them quick, freaked out glances, and the way that Dean's hand was creeping slowly closer to his crotch.

"Uh," he said, clearing his throat. "So what you been up to since..." he trailed off, not wanting to mention zombie cats again. Ever.

"Well," said Roger, "I, uh, had to sell the cattery."

"Because you made all the cats zombies," said Dean, conversationally.

Roger winced. "Yeah, the cat owners weren't that pleased, so I moved here to get away."

"Pissed off pet owners," said Dean, sounding gleeful. "Sounds like hell."

"Yeah," said Roger again, staring at his beer, then taking a long drink. "So, um, what you guys been up to?" he asked, clearly to change the subject.

Dean smirked. "Hunting evil, fucking my brother..." he said smugly. "Same old stuff." Roger choked on his beer.

"Dude!" hissed Sam. Dean's smirk just grew wider, and his hand crept another inch up Sam's leg.

"So, what do you do now?" Sam asked Roger, desperately trying to get the conversation off incest before the bartender, who was already shooting them hard looks, took it into his head to run them out of his place with a shotgun.

"I, uh, I run some kennels just outside town," said Roger. He downed the last of his beer, and Sam was mildly impressed with how fast he'd managed to drink it. "You know, I've got to go. It was, um, good to see you again." He gave them a mildly traumatised smile and escaped from the bar as fast as possible.

Dean sighed and rested his head on Sam's shoulder. "Tell me we're not going to spend the next three days hunting down zombie dogs?"

"We're not going to spend the next three days hunting down zombie dogs," lied Sam, sighing and downing his own beer. It was definitely time for them to go back to their motel room, where there was a big bed, plenty of lube and, hopefully, absolutely no zombie animals.

 


End file.
